When He Came Back
by Bronze-and-Navy-is-Creating
Summary: It has been ten years since Christine has seen the man in the mask. But what happens when he returns one night to find he has son and a woman who has been waiting a decade for him? Thanks to one nosey Persian of course.
1. Chapter 1

Here be a new one. Reviews are always encouraged

O.G.

 _Ten long years_

She stared out the window, lines of age setting in her once perfect angelic face. Yet amongst those lines, laugh lines were absent as they had been for a decade. Laughter was absent. In fact it only appeared for Gustave, but even that was rare. Especially now.

She turned for a moment, to stroke back his dark hair. Clammy skin making it stick as he wheezed. His dark hair so much like how his father's probably would have been. His father's…

 _Living a mere facade of life  
Ten long years_

When was the last time her husband had even checked on his son. Or who he claimed was his son. When was the last time he even stayed home for a night? The last time he held and comfort his child, the last time he helped her? She couldn't remember. No. Her job wasn't to remember. It was to sit patiently waiting for him to come home and pretend everything was fine when it wasn't.

Still a caged song bird she looked back to the window.

Everyday.

Everyday she hoped and prayed and imagined that one day she would see a carriage approach. A man with a white mask to knock on there door or climb through her window. She hoped, against her wishes. He had hurt her. And every day he wasn't there only drove the knife of betrayal deeper. Yet despite it all, she waited. She hoped.

And everyday, she was disappointed.

 _Wasting my time on smoke and noise_

She wished she could turn on her record player. Could drink her problems away as her husband did. Drink and forget her own name. Smoke until she didn't care if she had a name. Her record player in the background as she left this painful lonely world. But she couldn't. Not with her son possibly on his deathbed. Her last connection to her angel… Her own angel whom she loved more than anything and so it nearly killed her to see how thin he had gotten. How struggled he was for breath. How pale he was and his eyes, eyes that were closed more often than open. So she stayed by his side, day and night, despite how much she wanted to forget everything.

 _In my mind  
I hear melodies pure and unearthly  
But I find I can't give them a voice without you_

What she would give to sing again. Truly sing. But without her angel of music, she found it hollow. Empty without meaning. Soon it faded entirely. Her memories of her once powerful voice haunting her. Yet she could always still manage to sooth her son. A mere whisper of what it once was, it still had a softness that could always put Her son to sleep.

 _My angels  
My angels  
Lost and gone  
Lost and gone_

She felt so alone. In that small bedroom. Surrounded by toys that now collected dust. All of her angels and perhaps god himself, were leaving her. And yet all she could do, was look out at the window, holding on to a false dream. One she knew would never come true.

 _The day starts  
The day ends  
Time crawls by_

How many hours had she been in there? She lost count. These days, five minutes felt as if it were hours. Then again, did time even matter? It was all the same now. She was alone. Her son was dying. Day after day, night after night, nothing changed except his breath which slowly grew more ragged.

Time, it seemed, was leaving her too.

 _Night steals in  
Pacing the floor_

The figure of speech, wearing a hole in the floor, she realized, wasn't just a figure of speech. Her eyes traced vaguely the hardwood by the window, only to see it lighter and more worn. As it was by every window in this house. A caged bird looking out at a world she could never fly in. One she once soared in was all but foreign. The nights were worse. For sometimes, she would imagine a shadow moving and for a moment, a glimmering moment, she would hope that perhaps it was him. But everytime it proved to be an animal or breeze a moment later. At times she would break down at the feeling of being crushed all over again.

And she hated him for it. She hated herself for loving him.

 _The moments creep  
Yet I can't bear to sleep  
Till I hear you sing_

She never slept these days. She would avoid it all costs. For she knew if she did, she would regret it. And these days it was easier to stay awake as she was to stand guard, a soul light for her son. Hoping when she knew it would fail. Praying when she knew she would be unheard. That her son might live. That he might be happy.

That he could meet his real father. That she could hear him, see his glimmering yellow eyes...

 _And weeks pass  
And months pass  
Seasons fly  
Still you don't walk through the door_

She wanted to scream. To rip open the window and let a wail that was so loud the world could hear it. That he'd have to come. But she knew he wouldn't. At first she was hopeful. Surely, he had not actually left her. That he had a reason and would come back with an apology and a kiss. A soft song to calm her. That they could be happy. But as months past and she grew to realize he wasn't coming back.

That she was staring at a window for nothing and yet, yet she had to. It was all she had.

 _And in a haze, I count the silent days  
Till I hear you sing once more_

She had given up on counting days. Weeks. Months. Soon years too would fade. But somehow, her heart still tremoured at his memory. Somehow, painfully, that never faded.

 _And sometimes at nighttime  
I dream that you are there  
But wake, holding nothing but the empty air_

She stopped sleeping with Raoul years ago. She was tired of lying. Tired of saying it was a nightmare that made her wake up sobbing.

When really she had been with her angel. When really she wished she could stay in that dream, that memory, forever.

Waking up was always the worst part of falling asleep.

 _And years come  
And years go  
Time runs dry  
Still I ache down to the core  
My broken soul can't be alive and whole  
Till I hear you sing once more_

How she had not died from a broken heart was a mystery to her. Perhaps it was Gustave. Her one small, fading speck of light in the world. But as he faded, any part of herself that was left did as well. Was she even real? Was she alive? Or was she a ghost haunting the room, waiting. Always waiting. Years from now, when her bones truly are dust she felt as if her soul, or what was left of it, would still be in this room. Silent and by the window.

 _And music, your music  
It teases at my ear  
I turn and it fades away and you're not here_

Sometimes she swore she could hear him. Actually hear him. Usually it was when she passed a mirror, the window, the door… whispering her name so softly it could barely be more than gentle breath. Yet even then it was so perfect in its sound it had to be him. But when she turned he wasn't there.

Perhaps he had died and it was his ghost haunting her. How would she know? Regardless if he was alive or not he was a ghost to her even now. A spirit and nothing more.

 _Let hopes pass  
Let dreams pass  
Let them die_  
 _Without you what are they for?_

When her son died. She would follow. That much she was sure of. He was her hope. Her only dream. The only person she had left in this cold world. And without him, she would have nothing. So she would become, nothing.

 _I always feel no more than halfway real_

Was she even Christine? Or a statue. A symbol. A woman waiting for something that felt like it would never come.

 _Till I hear you sing once more_

The clock in the hall struck 12. Midnight. Right as a carriage pulled up.

Her breath caught. It was black and plain. Not one of her husband's. No… it couldn't be. Yet despite her pain she hoped.

She held her breath as she saw a tan man exit the carriage and go to the door. He looked vaguely familiar…

Confused and guiltly hopeful she turned to check on her son, who thankfully still slept on. His fever a bit lower today in a small blessing. She knew he would be asleep for several more hours at least so she placed a quick kiss on his forehead before slipping out.

She hurried down just to see the door open. Thankfully she was at least still in her tea dress as she had lost track of time earlier.

And then she recognized him. His name clicked and she said with a confused smile "Mr. Khan? It has been so long. Please do come in. Tell me how you are." She said, giving him. A friendly hug as she remembered his help over a decade ago.

He gave a warm smile and nod, following her. "I am very well thank you Christine. And you can always call me Nadir."

She nodded respectfully and sat as a servant went to make tea. "So… What do I have to owe this visit? I hope it is something good?" She asked worry crossing her face. He knew her angel… what if.

She swallowed fear. Oh if only she could hate him. For all he did to her…

Nadir gave a warm smile and said comfortingly, catching her gaze "I hope, it is… I, well. Have done something rather… extreme but I hope it benefits you both. Now Christine tell me. Be honest. How are you? I don't want to sound a gossip but… I have heard things haven't been easy these past two years. For you or your son…"

She swallowed and sighed, looking at her hands before shaking her head. Quietly she said "He gets worse everyday. The doctors give him another year at best… and I-I feel so alone. You know about our money I'm sure. And that I am essentially the only one ever home..." finally she looked up, an older look in her eyes as she asked coldly, her extreme bitterness showing through "How much did he tell you? And if you are on his behalf because he is too much of a coward to face me then tell him I won't hear it but from him. Preferably within punching distance."

Nadir let out a small snort. "Well. I don't blame you on that. And when I finally managed to pry out of him exactly why he left I did in fact, punch him. For being an idiot. And if you wish to take your frustration out on him, after all he did, I would feel wrong to even try and stop you."

She swallowed. He was alive. And that seemed to set her heart thumping. Shaking slightly now she couldn't help but ask "How is he then?"

Part of her hoped he was suffering terribly. That he would suffer just a fraction of what she felt.

"He… he is not well Christine. Each day I feel he is less and less… himself. He regrets leaving, Christine. Regrets leaving to the point he barely moves. Barely eats or sleeps. He even gave up trying to walk again and working on the prosthetic For his leg. For years he would not even speak but… well after I finally slipped a bit of… something into his drink one night, I got him to talk… and the moment I found out I did something a bit drastic… but I need to know, do you want to see him? Whether to yell at him or… anything else?"

Without thought she nodded. She wanted him and to give him a piece of her mind at least.

Nadir smiled and stood with a nod. And before she could add anything he hurried out.

She held her breath in shock and confusion. What _would_ she say? But before she could back out and hide up stairs in her son's room, Nadir returned. He was pushing a wheelchair where sat a very thin, frail masked man.

His eyes darted to look directly at Christine. Her heart stopped.

She was surprised at the sudden emotional turmoil that flooded her in that moment as she stared back. Anger, white hot flooded her. An anger that had been brewing for ten years took over. But another feeling, deeper and more fundamental to her being was leaping with absolute joy.

He looked terrified to see her. And for the moment of passion she settled back into anger. A biting bitter anger. One that left her speechless.

Before she knew what she was doing she was across the room and in front of him. She slipped off the mask without a second thought before slapping the absolute hell out of him.

He didn't retaliate. In fact he almost looked relieved that she did. He swallowed and turned back to face her.

Finally he broke the silence. His voice cracked and sounded as every bit of unused as Nadir had described. "I am glad to see I am just as welcomed and unwanted as I told nadir I would be. But I will have you know it is not my choice to be here. As he kidnapped me. I've been good, letting you live a happier life… without me. Honestly I hoped you would have forgotten me. I hope everyone forgets me."

Her eyes narrowed with every word. Her voice was cold, bitter, sarcastic. "Forgotten you? Forgotten you!? Well it's kind of hard to forget when your own fucking son is upstairs! Or did you forget about that night all together hmm? Never cared to find out if I was okay or if, I don't know, if I even _wanted_ you to leave that night? No. It's all you you you. You selfish bastard! Ten years! I waited! Ten fucking years you have left me alone to suffer while I watch! Our! Fucking! Son! Die!" with each word she slapped him in her anger. She wished he was standing just so she could kick as well. All of her frustration of the past two years and decade in general were suddenly spewing forth.

He looked shocked when she paused for breath. His eyes wide and destroyed face trembling with a deep horror. "S-son?"

She nearly shreaked. " YES. SON. BUT WHAT DO YOU FUCKING CARE! YOU LEFT ME, ALONE AND WITH CHILD YOU COMPLETE ASS!" She said before finally breaking down into broken sobs. This was too much for her. And soon she found herself on her knees sobbing.

To Erik this was somehow worse.

"I-I trusted you. Lo-ve you… and you le-ft us! Left me… And n-now he's dying. And where were you!? W-where were you…"

Erik looked faint but they were both interrupted by a frantic servant. "madam! Gustave! He stopped breathing all toget-OH MY GOD!" She screamed before fainting after catching sight of Erik without his mask. Christines eyes widened and without a second thought she darted upstairs, her heart stopping all at once.

O.G.

Cliffhangers, am I right?


	2. Chapter 2

Kinda taking creative license on medicine but meh.

O.G.

Nadir without hesitation scooped Erik up and followed as he knew Erik would probably climb the stairs on his hands if not.

Christine went to her son's side. She felt for his breath. And waited. To her horror she felt and heard nothing. She felt for his pulse and her breath caught as she felt it, so very faint.

Nadirs eyes looked haunted as he saw the familiar sight of a parent next to their dying child. Erik, however, barely even realized that he had a son. His shock was too great. But seeing the look on Christine's face, the pure pain there and to know, in a way, he caused it to be there, was perhaps the worst pain he had ever felt.

And this is what finally snapped him out of it. His face went blank as he said in a much more confident voice "Nadir. Put me on the bed, get me the black medical bag. I saw it in the carriage. Christine, take off his shirt."

If it weren't for his confidence she would have kicked him out. But what choice did she have? He was her only option really.

As she worked nadir did exactly as told. Erik sat next to him and the moment his shirt was free he felt his chest and throat again to see if he had any movement. He didn't but Erik could feel how swollen his throat was and had a feeling that was where the blockage was. Gustaves lips were turning blue now and Erik was worried about causing permanent damage. Thankfully Nadir was back in under a minute. Erik quickly reached in and pulled out a strange metal tube with a sharp end.

Expertly he lined up the sharper end and to Christian a horror, he stabbed it into the base of his throat. But before she could scream she heard the relieving sound of her son gasping.

Erik breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly he exchanged the tube with an odd nozzle end and held it in place with medical tape and bandages. It would work for now he knew.

With the emergency over be was finally able to actually look at him. His sharp cheekbones were the first thing Erik noticed. Slightly gaunt from illness bringing out the similarities to Erik. And his hair was black, thick and curly. Much like how Eriks should have been. And while his nose lips and eye shape were without a doubt from Christine, the general face shape was completely from Erik.

His hand shook and he could feel tears forming a bit as he asked "Did he inherit any of my deformity?" that was his first concern. Did he curse another living being with his appearance.

She shook her head, her eyes unable to leave her son's face. "Not really… he has trouble smelling things. And it's very hard for him to keep any kind of weight. But other than that he is perfectly fine…"

Erik took a shaky sigh of relief. He was always in some state of self hatred but at that moment it was greater than it had been in years. He closed his eyes and said in a trembling voice "God Christine… you must truly hate me… Had I known… Y-you see. I thought… I thought I could not physically father children. So I… never imagined… if there had been-been any doubt on that thought I would have stayed to make sure at least…"

Her voice was tired and plain when she asked, her eyes unable to move from her son's face. "Why did you leave?"

He took a moment to answer. The answer was something that had plagued him for a decade now. Caused him to have a depression so deep it had taken ten years to even speak at all, and that was only with Nadirs help. In all honesty he had almost forgotten how to speak after a decade of silence. And even now he felt choked st the answer. But she deserved one so he fought through it and said "Because I thought it was better for you… I could not provide much of a life for you. I thought you would be guilty from that night. That you would feel obligated to stay with a monster when you realized what I was, what I am. And I didn't want to make you suffer more than you already had… It was a decision that destroyed me Christine. I… I thought it was-was. Right. F-or. You… you d-did not need a monster in your life." He was breaking now. Mentally frayed and overwhelmed. His hands clenched the sheets tightly under him. He grit his teeth, fighting back tears and the urge to break down from guilt and plain misery now. Never had he messed up so badly than the night he left, and he realized that now.

Christine did not reply for a long time. Then finally she said "I don't see you as a monster. An idiot yes. An asshole who never lets others make decisions for themselves absolutely. But… not a monster."

He looked at her finally as if she was going insane "h-how? Christine. I abandon you. Traumatized you. Hurt you… I have done so many unspeakable things… how am I not a monster?"

"Because you regret it. Because there is still a bit of good in you." she said with a half shrug. "Monsters don't have either of those things… Are you a good person? No. But, that doesn't mean you are hopeless. You are actually redeemable, if you tried or cared."

His breath caught. Slowly he swallowed and said shaking "H-how on earth am- Am I redeemable? Please, you do not owe me a thing but I beg you. How am I redeemable? Because whatever it is I should do, I will do it without hesitation."

Her answer surprised him "Take us. Take us from here. My husband will not care. He has not cared for some years now… I want to go somewhere. Somewhere warm and safe with my son. I want to make my own decisions for now on. I want to be able to sing again. For you to accept yourself And actually be there for us both when we need you And even when we don't… And if you can, save him. He's… I can't live through losing my son Erik."

Erik nodded and turned to his son again, his eyes shimmering with hope. Never had anyone been willing to forgive him in such a way.

Taking this sudden life line with what little bit of his soul remained he said "I would save him regardless… and I would do any and all you asked me to- but truly. If I did that, I would be-be forgiven?"

She nodded and held her son's hand. "Yes. I believe you would be…"

He looked at her as if she was made from purely the light of god. "You truly are an angel Christine. I do not deserve you."

"I know." she stated plainly, but added with the smallest hint of hope for this nightmare to be over, "But regardless of what you deserve, it is me you shall receive."

He shook his head in wonder, the hint of a smile on his lips. Smiling was something he had not done in years. But a loud ragged breath caught his attention and he turned to his son. His son… he still could not believe he had a son.

Nervously he asked "Do you want him to know who I am?" whatever she said he would do. She was the one there for him after all. Erik knew next to nothing in the world of parenthood.

"Yes. When he is better." she said with a nod, eyes fixated on his face.

Erik nodded and slowly slid back into a more clinical mind Set as he started to examine him closely. "How long has he been ill?"

She seemed almost relieved that he was focusing on her son "Two years on and off. Though this is the worst and longest bout he has had. The doctors said it's pneumonia that keeps coming back… Why? And how did you know to do the- the throat thing?"

His eyes narrowed a bit at the other doctors assumptions "I used to be a doctor. A very renowned one in Persia." He said simply while laying out tools and grabbing one he listen to his heartbeat and lungs. He grimaced further at what he heard.

"Why am I not surprised." she said in a slightly lighter tone. Then she noticed his grimace and asked with deep concern "What is it?"

"I don't think it's pneumonia. Tell me. Is this the third or second time he has fallen ill in the past 2 years? And I know his breath is barely that but did you notice something off this time about it?" Erik said, rather worried as he began to message out the closed of throat.

She gripped the sheets in anxiety as she said "third time… and yes. Usually his breath sounds rattled. Now it's more of a wheeze and just very weak."

Erik nodded and relaxed feeling the throat open a bit. "He doesn't have pneumonia. It's a very rare disease. Common in people who have trouble fighting illness, and if I had to guess, the inside of his nose is more… hollow correct?" Erik said moving his head now gently back, grateful he could see in the dark. From what he saw he could see the cartilage between each nostril was thin and under developed. And instead of a tube it was more cavernous. Stretched tissue conjoining and stopping in a twisted pattern.

Erik knew he got that from him. And his own personal self loathing only got worse. But he ignored that for now as he had to remain clinical. Christine's nod confirmed his thoughts.

"You see. His nose probably has trouble filtering out things most people can. It's one reason why in public I have to wear the mask because there's a small filter in it for that reason. His nose probably let this happen but you see, there is a very small micro-organism that tends to grow and be attracted to the mold and fluid build up that happens with pneumonia. That's probably why the medication isn't working. This attack and actually eats away the leftover bits in the lung but it also eats away the muscle and lining of the lung. Making it weak and… eventually leading to death. It also attacks the throat and eats the muscle there. It tends to swell as a result as the throat sends out antibodies to try and fight this, and sometimes it swells too much… But thankfully there is a cure. And I think I came in enough time to save him. But it won't be easy. It's a long, painful process. And there will be some permanent damage I'm sure. Weak lungs and frequent shortness of breath. Sometimes asthma…"

Christine nodded and asked quickly "But you can save him?"

Erik looked at her and nodded softly "Yes. I can save him… But I need to be around him every day and every night. It's hard to kill the organisms and not cause damage. And even harder to rebuild muscle tissue."

She nodded and let out a shaky breath of relief, wiping her eyes. "Of course. Anything long as he is well." she looked down at her hands and added in a choked voice, a few tears spilling over "You know. A few days ago. Before he fell asleep, he told me he did not think he would live. That he would meet h-his grandfather soon. And t-that he wasn't scared anymore." she then buried her face in her hands and actually sobbed, hard.

Erik had to swallow a lump in his throat. Hearing his son, the one he had not even really met yet, say something Erik himself might have said at his age, broke something deep inside of him.

"I-I… I should have been there for you both…" he said in a shaking voice. Slowly he reached his hand out to rub her back, provide some comfort. Once he might have sung to calm her but he had not tried or done so in a decade so he doubted he could make it comforting. Honestly he had a feeling it would sound like he was gargling rocks.

But then again, why would she even want him to touch her? He did not deserve such a privilege. He did not deserve a second chance to even speak to her.

So slowly he lowered his hand. Hating himself even more so to the point he wanted to claw off his own skin and die. He deserved death. Pain. Torture. All of the above for this crime.

But regardless of what he should have done to him, he said in an attempt to comfort her "Shh. Christine. I swear he will be alright. You have been so strong. Let, let me take it from here. Go and rest. I can start giving him the medication, and watch over him. But you look like you need sleep." as he spoke he slipped on his mask, a black one with a veil over the mouth. No need to scare him if he woke.

She nodded and then said "O-okay… I can't believe I'm trusting you but… I trust you on this." then she added with worry "Wait. What about Raoul? He hates you still Erik. In fact he…" she sighed and rubbed her hand over her eyes and said "He knows Gustave isn't his son… I think, from what I heard him ramble when he doesn't think anyone can hear. He thinks that you raped me, and that I just don't want to talk about it."

She sighed and fiddled with the cold rock of a ring she had. "He isn't a terrible person in some ways. He didn't turn me out when he saw Gustave and Gustaves eyes… yellow like his father's. Some would but Raoul didn't. Instead he tried to be there for me, at first. But what happened changed him. And then later on he had to do something for the navy for a year. When he came back he was different. I think that what ever happened- he won't talk about it, but what happened at the navy and opera made him finally snap. He started drinking and gambling. We barely have any money now. And the more Gustave fell ill the more he went out. We stopped talking or really caring about each other. He started cheating and I let him. I didn't care. My heart… my heart wasn't ever in this relationship to begin with… It was somewhere else, some place I could not find." she grimaced and stood. "I will pack my things and gustaves. I know Raoul won't care. In all honesty we have talked about just getting a divorce before. Not even from fighting just that. That this isn't a marriage. I'll leave him a note… Can Gustave be moved?" She asked with a worried and determined tone.

Erik was shocked to hear all of this. But he knew he could not critique Raoul for not being there for her when he was even less so. He looked back to Gustave and said "If we lay him right in the carriage and if I start the medication now he should be able to. Where would you like to Go? I have a very small mess of a shack… or we can go to Nadirs flat. It has more room at least. I'm sure he is down stairs if you could ask. I would but… Well. No wheelchair and wheelchairs rather hate stairs." he said with a blush.

She looked down at his leg in slight surprise. She remembered being horrified when she saw what the mob had done that night as, along with quite a few scars and missing bits of his flesh, he was missing his leg from the middle of his shin down. Now that she had known this for about ten years she barely thought anything of it. "In all honesty I forgot about it. What happened to your prosthetics?"

Erik blushed and said "I gave up on everything Christine. Including learning how to use it and tweaking it. I barely moved to eat." He swallowed and said with the slightest bit of hope "But. Now. I think I could try again. Though it will take a while as I have no muscle in my legs now. I can barely even feel them in all honesty due to lack of blood flow."

She looked at him with s bit of sympathy but could say nothing on it. He caused this on himself and that would be hard for her to forgive. So instead she nodded and went about the room quietly as he worked, packing her son's things.

He went back to relaxing his throat further in the hope of taking out the hole. He pulled out a vile of a light blue colour and put it on a swab at the end if a stick, putting it down Gustave a throat, coating it in something that would bring the swelling down greatly and shrink the skin a bit so it wouldn't re-swell.

But he looked up in surprise as he heard Christine say, looking down at black case on the bed "He's a lot like you honestly. Smart as can be. Wants to learn everything. Loves to build, create. And music- god. Every instrument he sees he has to learn and he does so quickly. And for a child be can sing beautifully… or used to. Of course lately he hasn't been able to do much more than sleep…" she swallowed and wiped her eyes again, closing the case and putting it next to three others all in varying sizes. Strings were his favourite. And she knew the moment he was well he would ask for those first. Especially his viola and cello.

Erik turned back to his son and stroked back a lock of curly black hair. Slowly taking out the swab he said, while letting the medicine take hold "I haven't touched a instrument in years. Nor have I sang or even heard music… Hopefully that will change soon."

As he spoke he held Gustaves small thin hand. He noticed it had the slightest bit of tan to it. Eriks own skin would probably be only a shade lighter than nadirs if he were not so deformed so he imagined Gustave got that as well from him.

He had a sudden urge to hold Gustave just then. To stroke his hair and cradle his son. It felt like someone had given him the greatest gift in that odd moment when shock wore off.

But no. He didn't deserve the honour of getting to hold his son. He had missed far too much. So he let go and grit his teeth to remain calm.

After a few minutes his throat was clear and Erik began to sew the hole he made close, dabbing it with alcohol as he worked.

Nadir came up to check on them and Christine asked to stay with him. Naturally he agreed.

The next half hour passed in a blur. Nadir seemed to avoid the room and Christine seemed to hover in it non stop. Erik insisted she sleep but naturally she refused, saying she would on the ride out. Erik shook his head and continued to care for his son. Wrapping his throat and starting a small mask that he held to him, burning a bit of incense in a compartment in the bottom.

As Christine watched over his shoulder he said "It's lucky he is asleep. It makes this easier… it is not pleasant normally."

She looked down with a deep worry as she asked "Why does he sleep through this all? Sometimes I worry he won't wake to eat…"

Erik sighed "Because he is slowly suffocating from how weak his lungs are. Your body will sleep more and more with less oxygen. To save energy. He will wake more and more as the organisms die off. This incense kills them. The medicine I'm going to give him in a minute will start rebuilding some muscle, trigger more antibodies to try and help, but it's going to take a while. I'll apply things to help the swell in his throat. An i.v. for nutrients and water when we get to Nadirs… though with how much strain he is under I'd imagine it will be another eight hours at least before he can wake. When he does we will give him some broth and change his bandages…" Erik added in a tired voice, thinking about how much work was to be done "I want to start him on physical therapy the moment his breathing improves."

"hopefully you can both work in that together then." She said pointedly. "As I do expect you to walk again…"

Erik looked up slightly surprised, he had nearly forgotten about his own problems. "Yes. Of course." He said with a nod. Then added "You wrote the letter?"

She nodded "Yes… I told him I would tell him my address when I got settled. Said I was going with distant relatives. That I found a good doctor and took only what we needed. That I didn't want Gustave waking to who he thinks is his father gambling and drinking. I think he'll understand. I told him I hope the best for him and that if he can clean up his life a bit I would be more than happy to at least be friends. That I hope the best for him and don't really blame him too harshly for how things worked out- that he had his own Demons to wrestle with. Demons my son and I don't need. And that I hope he finds someone a bit better… I feel a bit bad but. It was never a very loving marriage. Supportive in a way. Not terrible. But it always felt like we were friends more than anything. I think, in all honesty, if he cleaned up his life a bit, he could find someone that really makes him happy."

Erik nodded "That… makes sense… Christine how do you not hate me as much as I hate me?" He asked gloomly, checking his cracked and old pocket watch. Five minutes left on the mask.

"Because I see things you don't…" she paused. Part if her really wanted to touch him. The part of her that still loved him. That craved and begged to just be held…

But she pulled away. It was too fast and confusing. Nadir interrupted, coming up and panting "Ready when you are. How is he?"

"Going to live." Erik said shortly, writing down a few vials in his notebook. "We can leave in… 3 minutes. I have to let the incense burn out… did you talk to the servant?"

He nodded "convinced her that in her panic she only saw me in the chair and her mind played tricks on her. The others got her to lay down. I told them we were moving things, I was a servant for Christine's family and that we would be moving so much we just wanted the floors cleared." He said with a nod.

"Smart." Erik said with a nod. A few more minutes passed before they were able to move Erik and Gustave. And after positioning Gustave so his head was in Eriks lap, as he would need medicine as they went, they were off. Erik looked across at her with concern as nadir steared them away.

"Are you sure you wish to leave? Or stay with me?" He said with a hint of worry. "I would help if you wanted to stay or not be in the same house…"

She shook her head almost violently and looked out the window. Only then was she able to admit "No Erik. I have waited a decade for you, and if you aren't within five meters of me I think I might actually scream."

He grimaced in confusion. "Why? I thought you would only want to be near me when you had to?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes "You still don't get it… Pray tell Erik, had you stayed long enough to ask if I wanted you _to_ stay, what do you think my answer would be?"

He cocked his head, studying her. "I don't know… I just assumed you would hate me I guess. But, judging by… By all of this, I take it I was wrong. But that doesn't…" He paused in a moment of realization. She wanted him to ask. Nodding he said "Christine, do you truly wish to stay with me?"

She let out a strange little laugh as she said "Now, was that so hard? But yes Erik. I wish to stay with you."

He shook his head in confusion. "Still. Why, may I ask? I will abide by your wishes of course. I will always do that, especially after… After what I did. But pray tell, why would you want to be around me?"

She looked at him then, as if he had lost what little sanity he seemed to have. "Because I still love you, you great idiot."

Erik felt faint at those words. Suddenly he had no breath in his body as he looked at her, wide eyed. "W-What? I-I H-how?"

She shrugged. She has long ago accepted the fact she loved him and always would. "Because, despite it all, I know deep down… Deep down there is still good. And that you can light fires and passions in me like nothing else. And I miss and remember how gentle you were. Not treating me as if I was glass but rather if I was the crown jewels in England. No one has ever made me feel so… so important and needed like that… that is why, if you right things, I am willing to forgive you." then she asked almost timidly "But. Do you still love me?"

Erik was so shocked by her proclamations that he barely heard her question. But slowly he nodded. In a voice that seemed just as soft the feeling itself he said "Yes Christine. That goes without question… as I said, it nearly killed me to leave… But I fear the man you speak of might be dead. For I haven't seen him in quite some time…" Erik sighed. Many times he had questioned if he was even Erik these days, and not some ironic ghost haunting a carcass. His looks would suggest that at least.

Slowly she reached out her hand and thus time she did not falter. She took his own cold, long, skeletal hands, into her own. Her heart leapt at the feeling. She missed him. And it took all her will power and the fear of disrupting their sleeping son to not jump over to his side and cling to him. Instead she gently squeezed his hand.

Erik squeezed back, letting a few tears trail under his mask. She really did love him still. Believed he was still there, deep down. And for her, Erik would make sure she was right. So he squeezed back. An unspoken message. But soon their hands parted as Gustave adjusted slightly in is sleep.

O.G.

Erik entering the world of fatherhood.


	3. Chapter 3

This is a long one. Please review!

O.g.

Gustave… Eriks attention soon rested on his son. His son. So perfect Erik couldn't help but love him as well. He was still struggling to believe he helped create something so perfect. "Tell me more about him. Tell me… tell me all I missed if… if I am allowed to know."

She debated for a bit. But if he was to stay, he should know. "What would you like to know?"

"Well. What was he like as a baby?" Erik asked timidly. He was already wanting to kick himself for missing out on that. For missing out on holding her, rounded with child. For missing his sons first breaths. First smile. First steps…

She smiled warmly at the memories. "Well. When he was born he was the smallest thing. Long yes but barely six pounds. The doctors were worried at first but we soon realized that was just how he was. But he could eat. About every five minutes he would be hungry, no lie. But I suppose that's a good thing as it let him grow and kept him just barely in the realm of decent weight and not starved. Something he gets from you I'm sure." she said with a teasing smile.

Erik rolled his eyes. Anytime he was remotely friends or even friendly with someone- which was rare- the first thing they did is say he needed to eat more. At first he did try to gain weight when he was in paris. Even going as far as eating ten meals a day and feeling beyond full. But no matter how much he ate he only was ever able to gain about 5 pounds. So he gave up and only ate when needed.

He looked down and observed how thin his son was. Hoping that he did gaim a bit more weight when well, despite knowing why he was gaunt.

"What else?" erik asked, stroking back his son's hair, and feeling relieved when it made his young face relax slightly in his sleep.

So she continued to fill Erik in. Secretly loving the sight of Erik holding him. But soon the conversation drifted to something heavier as she admitted "I think he knows Raoul isn't his biological father… He asked me once. Why he doesn't look like Raoul. I told him I did not know… But I think, when he is any kind of coherent, he will figure out who you are."

Erik sighed but nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised. What should I say? What do you want me to do if he hates me? I can't say I blame him. I still hate my own father for abandoning me…"

She cocked her head slightly in thought. "You should figure out what to say. Not me. I'm not the one who left. All I will say is be honest. He's a smart boy. He'll know if you're lying. As for what to do, if he wants space let him have it. Regardless of what he says or does, be there for him… Though I doubt he'll hate you. I think he will be happy to have you in his life."

Eriks brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?" when he spoke his voice cracked slightly. The longer they talked the more worn his voice got, as it was so unused to moving. But he didn't care. It would come back with practice. But he wasn't looking forward to how sore it would be tomorrow.

"Because… While Raoul tried for a while they never saw eye to eye. Both were polar opposites of each other." she sighed shaming her head and stroking back her son's hair.

"Well. That makes sense." Erik said with a slow nod. Quietly he adjusted him and started into his sweet face, the self hatred and guilt in not being there for him was overwhelming to say the least. In his mind he was already thinking of different ways he would most likely punish himself with when home, without anyone's knowledge of course. He felt so unbelievably disgusted with himself he knew he had to do something. But for now he just tried to sooth his son by stroking his hair back.

The rest of the carriage ride was filled with random bits of small talk. Both parents rather tired and both knowing they would most likely guzzle tea and coffee the moment home as to avoid sleep.

Finally the carriage stopped and they decide to put Gustave in Eriks lap and nadir simply wheeled them both in quietly. Gustave instinctively held onto Eriks neck without waking. His grip weak but Erik knew that was as strong of a grip as he could form. And Erik could not fight the tears that slipped down his cheeks at the feeling of his son holding onto him like that. God he didn't deserve either of them…

Once inside they laid him down in Eriks bed, Erik in his chair next to his son as he set up I.V. his face slowly turning blank as medical practice robbed him of any and all emotion. It was easier that way.

Once the i.v. was in he expertly began to tend to his throat, lightly dabbing a solution that would help with swelling, as well as administering a tiny shot in his throat to help further his medication.

When it was all said and done Erik wheeled out to inform Christine.

Naturally she rushed in, stroking back his thick black curls, glad to see him starting his recovery. Erik on the other hand was studying Christine and wearing a hole through his torn lips. Finally, guilt infesting his stomach, as if they were worms in a dying street cat, he said "Christine. I can watch him for the next few hours and tend to his medicine. You need sleep Christine. You have done more than enough watching and caring for our son. It's my turn now. Go rest, please."

He knew he had yet to earn her trust, and felt almost rude presuming she would let him care for their son alone after Erik had abandoned them for a decade. He watched her closely, noticing an odd mix of emotions swiftly cross over her. Lips moving in mental conversations that would never reach fruition.

Then finally a slightly nervous look, mixed with a small bit of anger and exhaustion is what remained as she nodded. "alright…" she whispered, staring at her son's against cheeks.

But then, cold blue eyes turned to look at him. "I will… but if he wakes you must get me immediately. And if he di… something happens to him, I will make Pompeii look like a small dust storm in comparison and you will pray for Armageddon to come and relieve you of my wrath, do you understand?" her voice held the face of fierce anger and protective instincts, but Erik knew it was only a mask to hide her true emotion. Fear.

"I understand." He said softly, sun yellow staring into icey blue that, under the soft warmth of his own, honest stare, began to melt a bit.

She nodded, feeling he was beginning to understand the consequences of what he had done. And oddly, a small moment of love crossed her tired heart, as she knew he was trying now at least. That, judging by his guilt clouded eyes he meant every word of the endless apologies just dying to burst from those lips, that she always craved so much. But instead, she settled on pecking her son's forehead and then pausing to bend down and kiss Eriks cheek before departing to find Nadir.

Erik watched after her in amazement. Before very gently touching the place her lips had just been in a small moment of love. Love for him…

One of the few smiles he had managed to have that night crossed his lips for a moment. And inspired a bit of hope in his hopeless soul.

Christine, refusing Nadirs insistence she take his bed, decided to sleep on the couch. She fell asleep very quickly, leaving Nadir and Erik the only ones conscious in the little flat.

Nadir quietly crept into the second room to find Erik, very silently, sobbing, mask pressed tightly to his face as he buried his tears of remorse into those skeletal appendages that once brought so much life and passion through the music they performed.

But of course, that was many years ago.

Nadir silently rubbed his back, both willing the child to rest as much as he needed. Nadir, always thinking in practicality, moved to the night stand to pull out a black veil mask. Soft and flowy. Ever since he left he had religiously worn some form of mask, almost in a form of mourning. He turned to Erik, whispering "Here. Trade. No need in you cutting your face and getting an infection."

Erik looked at the at home mask, tears never pausing in their race as he nodded and took it. Both men knew there was no stopping his grief so neither tried. Instead Erik traded masks quickly, silk grazing barely existing skin, as to hide the monster he physically was from his son.

Erik was silent for a moment longer before surprising Nadir by speaking in a voice that was now quiet by nature, having lost its strength throughout its day of use.

"You were right, to make me go back… thank you." He looked up at nadir and a much older guilt crossed those older orbs. "Thank you for saving my son…" and Nadir knew what the implied other half was. 'Even though I couldn't save your's. I'm sorry.'

But Nadir only blamed himself for Reza's passing, over two decades ago. He never blamed Erik even though he knew Erik blamed himself.

But instead of opening old wounds, no that always came in the morning, he merely shook his head and said in a tone he hoped would lighten the mood "Told you so. I take it you want coffee to stay up for the next week and a half?"

"Two weeks." He said plainly, knowing there was no sense in hiding his extreme insomnia from Nadir, as Nadir had seen him stay up for up to eighteen days before, as the loss of Christine haunted him too greatly to sleep. And now the guilt of leaving would replace that loss he was sure. But being awake had the benefit of guarding his son so Christine could rest her weary eyes.

Nadir nodded and left to make Erik black coffee, and a small bowl of food. It had been almost a full week since Erik had eaten, and he hoped with Christine here, he could convince him to eat a small bowl of plain pasta noodles, hoping the starch would fill him and give him some well needed weight. His weight truly alarmed Nadir. He'd always been skeletal, a metabolism too high and a body too ill adapted to absorb much of anything. But now nadir worried his heart would give out at any second from starvation and exhaustion together. He truly had no fat. Even his eyes, which were always slightly sunken and wide, seemed to only get bigger and more blood shot as the skin and what little flesh was there disappeared. His remaining leg borderline necrosis from bone to skin. And his ribs, not only could you count them but you could see in fine detail where each old chip lay on the painfully sharp bones. One rib even actually above the skin as it has been too tight and ripped through on his lower ones. A sliver of white amongst the white grey tissue that seemed to shrink every day.

To say he was alive still was a miracle, though nadir assumed until today Erik would see it as a curse. But he hoped and hoped that today changed that. That today… today he would perhaps begin to not see living as a plague upon his wretched soul.

Quietly Nadir returned with pasta and coffee. Immediately Erik had a scowl as he saw the food. "I'm not eating." He snapped quickly. Erik felt he didn't deserve food, more so now than ever.

Nadir rolled his eyes and said "Yes you will or I will drag Christine in here right now and she will make you. You're no good to either of them dead."

Erik opened his mouth to rebuttal but closed it again, rather stumped for once. He huffed and glared one more time at Nadir before accepting the while tray. Making a stubborn point to drink at least half the coffee before he began to eat the food which remained tasteless to him, thanks to his lack of smell.

His stomach, unused to food, begged for him to eat. And so, rather guiltily he devoured it like a starving wolf. His stomach both rejoicing and groaning in protest.

Nadir looked smug as he took the bowl from Erik and left him with his coffee, knowing that was all that be could do for his friend tonight.

Erik soon began the long quiet stretch of time that marked him watching his son. And somehow in the quiet stretch where time mattered very little to him, he found a sense of peace.

He reflected a long time over why he would feel such an emotion, eyes tracing, memorizing, the way his son's farms curls spread around him in a black halo. He had expected, anticipated even, this being the hardest time for him. But in reality it was like the first breath of fresh free air after being incarcerated for decades.

Then it hit him as he finished his third cup of coffee, long after the other two had drifted asleep. He felt peace because he now had a purpose again.

Many times in his cellar, he would have long depressive weeks where he felt lost. And those were always saved by starting a new project. And they always had a momentary breath of fresh air when he gave Christine lessons, all those years ago.

It felt so long ago, like a distant dream. He had forgotten what Raoul even looked like as it all had faded with time. All but her. Yes, Christine had remained as vivid as she could in a memory. And despite a decade having passed, she still looked beautiful as ever to him. Yes she was thinner than perhaps was healthy now. A bit paler, a little less youth in those still miraculously pink cheeks, a few wrinkles from age. But she was still Christine. His angel.

And as he thought of her, the similarities between Gustave and his mother appeared more apparent. His lips, plush like hers even if they were greyed slightly with illness. Mercifully he had gotten his mother's nose as well, even if it was a bit thinner than hers. Eyes her exact shape.

And his eyes, Erik realized as he opened them, were the same bright yellow as his father.

Both of them blinked in surprise to find him awake. Then, a ragged whisper of a voice came from those pale lips "Are you… A doctor…" he asked, eyes glazing over a bit in illness.

Erik swallowed, and it was a long moment before he managed to say "Yes… and more… You're getting better Gustave. I-I promise." His voice wavered as true emotion took over his voice. Yes, he did promise. He had to.

Gustave shook his head "I don't… feel like it…" he wheezed.

"I know… you won't feel well for a while. But I have the proper medicine for you now… Hold on, I need to get your mother, I promised her I would get her when you were awake."

As he spoke he began to wheel to the door. He merely peaked his head and out and called out, not caring if Nadir woke too, "Christine… Wake up, Gustaves awake."

She jumped and hurried off to Erik's room almost in a panic. She came in and saw Gustave's bright yellow eyes looking at the door. Erik moved back to let her come stand next to her son. Erik, being practical for once, thought to give her the small desk chair in the room so she could sit next to him. She murmured a thank you as she kissed Gustave's forehead.

"How do you feel sweetie?" She asked in a voice Erik had never heard her use. It was the voice of a gentle mother.

Gustave mumbled and shifted closer, mumbling "Not good… Where are We? Hospice?"

Hospice. Not hospital. Both cringed a bit at his deep understanding on just how close to death he was when Erik arrived.

"No sweetie… We are at a family friend's flat. An… old friend, named Erik, came by. He's a very talented doctor, and figured out a cure for what you actually have. He's going to make sure you get well again. For good this time." there was a hint of determination in her voice that reminded Erik of one of her many ramblings on how she was determined to be good enough to be prima donna.

"So I don't have pnu-pneumonia…?" He asked, confused, his voice such a terrifyingly faint whisper.

Erik wheeled forward now, saying with a slightly hoarse but overall comforting voice that just seemed instinctual to him "No Gustave. You have a very rare type of infection. It's from a type of bacteria that eats what was left of your previous bout of pneumonia but it acts like it and hurts your lungs. I have medicine now that will kill it off and restore your lungs a bit. It'll take a while, and it will probably be awhile before you feel any better, but you will heal".

"Goo...d… Why do I have bandages?" He said still a bit disoriented by all the new information that was suddenly in front of him.

Erik was a bit proud of how curious and bright he seemed, even when ill. The questions he knew he got from his mother, but the comprehension of what they were saying Erik knew Gustave got from Erik himself.

"I had to make a small incision when I arrived as you'd stopped breathing. It's healing now. It should only leave a small scar and nothing more." He reassured him.

Gustave, being innocent to the drama of who Erik was and being so frustrated with his bodies imprisonment asked in a small child's voice "Why didn't you come sooner?"

Ouch… that stung deeply. Very deeply. Erik swallowed, trying to recover. What should he say. The truth? He looked at Christine helplessly, she would be the one to decide what Gustave knew. It was only right.

She shook her head and sighed saying "He… doesn't get along with your fath… Raoul. He doesn't get along with Raoul. So he waited a long while but missed me do much he had to check up on us. When he found you ill, he took us to his home to take care of us…"

Gustave seemed to accept this, nodding and saying "Father has a lot of enemies…" and that hurt Christine. Or rather infuriated her. Because she knew Gustave only knew that from Raoul's drunken rants.

And so it was that anger she said, trying to keep her voice calm "Well we won't have to worry about Raoul any more… I, Gustave. How does traveling, living somewhere new, when you're well sound? Just you, me, and Erik here. Would you like that?"

His little face brightened slightly as he said "Can we go to Italy? There's music and art, and I love to read about Rome's history..."

Italy. That sounded nice and warm. Plenty of music, god she missed music. "If it'd make you happy, then yes." And that little smile he gave at his mother's response was worth every second before, a small timeless treasure, to both his parents.

Then Gustave studied Erik's eyes. Tilting his head in confusion. "Momma? Am I related to ?"

She jumped slightly in surprise, as did Erik himself. Scrambling, she said "What um… What um makes you say that?"

"His eyes. They're just like mine… I've never seen eyes like mine before." He sighed, almost breathless again. He was getting tired.

They looked at each other and slowly Christine nodded. Tension, unseen by their son, thick in the air. "Yes… yes you are… But I think that's enough questions for today Gustave. You need to eat and rest some more." She said, praying he'd listen.

And mercifully he did. Nodding and settling back. Erik let out a breath he'd been holding. He mumbled "let me go make the broth. Christine, you should perhaps eat too."

Christine looked at him and after a small debate she nodded. He immediately, trying to escape without telling a very sick ten year old 'Oh by the way I'm your father and because I'm a great fat idiot I left you and your mother to be settled with an abusive asshole'. Erik shuddered at the thought as he began to cook them food. Many emotions running through him. Some pain 'Why didn't you come sooner'. And some joy 'Can we go to Italy?' already accepting that Erik would join without a single question. But of course his mind continuously settled on 'He had eyes like mine'.

'Oh god what would they tell him?' was his soul thought as he returned with food. What would they tell him…

O.g. sorry such a long chapter. Hope you enjoyed. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for the reviews!

O.g.

When Erik returned, they propped Gustave up and helped him eat. He was slow and tried st first to hold the spoon but his hand shook too much, so Christine automatically helped feed him. Even their small conversation and meal was enough to exhaust him. He only spoke when needed and the moment the bowl was pulled away, he fell asleep. Christine tucked him back in before turning to her own food and guiltily eating like a starved woman off the streets. Guilt turned in his stomach as he watched her. His fault…

When she finished she surprised him further by saying "You go sleep Erik. I'll watch him." her voice was one to not be argued with.

But a guilt fueled stubborn streak in him raised its head. "No… I couldn't sleep if I tried."

"Erik, I went and rested because I knew it was the right thing to do. Even if I didn't want to." she pointed out quickly.

"yeah well, you weren't the one who left…" he sighed. He was too weary to argue so he came up with something to do as he said "But I will go bathe. So rest assured I am taking care of myself in some capacity." Then he wheeled out before she could protest.

This pattern continued for the next week. Every time she would insist he sleep he would make up a task to do. Which honestly did result in some productivity. The flat had never been cleaner, for the first time in what felt like years both Gustave and Christine were well feed with rather well made food, he was actually working on a prosthetic along with some self given physical therapy to rebuild his good legs muscle. However when it came to eating and sleeping it was a never ending battle. Christine would have to insist he eat every time and he usually rejected the very idea until Gustave started to speak up. He would look at him with big pleading eyes and say "Please eat with me. I don't want you sick to …" and that would always melt his resolve.

Throughout their time together, Erik was surprised how quickly Gustave took to him. He was, as Erik figured, highly inquisitive and intelligent. Though unlike both parents he never pressed matters much after the first answer. It was only natural that he ask about Eriks mask when he started to stay awake longer.

" ?" He asked one late evening soon after their arrival, while his mother dozed in her chair.

"Yes little one?" Erik replied, using his own little name in return.

"Why do you wear a mask?" He asked with a slight cough and wheeze.

Christine had slowly grown more attentive to the conversation and looked at Erik.

 _Don't lie_

He swallowed and looked down. He hoped that, with Gustave being a child, he might be open minded. And it was that tiny bit of sought out encouragement that allowed him to say "I… I have a severe deformity Gustave. One that reaches my face. I wear it as to not frighten others as well as to protect myself. It makes the skin and bones very delicate and so I must wear a mask to also protect it against the elements. When outside I wear a different mask, with a filter in it so I can breathe without falling ill."

Gustave blinked in surprise but slowly nodded "I underst-" but then he was cut off by a bad coughing fit that had both Erik and Christine holding him and making sure he was okay. When he recovered he asked, eyes heavier than before "can I see it?"

Erik shook his head. "I would rather not Gustave. It frightens most adults and I do not wish for you to fear me. Perhaps when you are older…"

Gustave looked a bit annoyed bit was too I'll go argue so he nodded and soon after he fell asleep.

He asked a few more times but eventually gave up. He never once tried to rip it off, and for that Erik was grateful. He was an intelligent child and naturally inherited his parents love for music. It took Erik by surprise when he asked if Erik played.

It took a moment before he was able to respond slowly "I did once yes… It was through music I met your mother actually. I was the one who taught her to sing. But I used to be a master of most instruments. However that was over a decade ago…"

"Could you play for me?" He asked shyly.

Eriks response surprised even himself as he replied "Yes. Though not today. All I ask is a few days to practice."

And sure enough that is exactly what happened. Erik used his free time he should have been sleeping in to practice. He was honestly terrified that he had lost his skill when he went to pick up his violin. Not to mention he had not heard a tune in ten years. Music had faded from even his mind.

Biting his lip in panic he decided to just start out with a simple scale. And thankfully it seemed his long practiced fingers still remembered exactly where to land. And after a few mishaps with his bow, his less dominant right hand caught up.

As the notes began to fall a song came to mind. A simple song really but one he had played more than any other. It was a lullaby, taught to him by Christine. One her father used to play for her and one Erik played for her after her father's passing. Usually on nights she failed to sleep, but sometimes even in the day when she just needed to hear her father.

He tested out the first measure, and as his fingers fell into place he began. Slower than normal at first. Occasionally adjusting as he had a few wrong notes or lapse of memory. But after about the fourth time he managed to play through it correctly and started working on its tone alone. Determined to have it absolutely perfect for when the two woke.

As he played it, other melodies came to mind as well. And it wasn't long before he had put together a small concert for his son. Sure it would take a bit longer for the more complicated pieces he once knew, but what he had now was passable to his own standards. And honestly relieving in many ways. His nerves and emotions were rarely stable, but after a few hours of play he was always left with a sense of calm he rarely got anywhere else.

Gustave of course was ecstatic when Erik played for him. And Erik caught the rather tearful smile Christine had as he concluded with a lullaby that did in fact, put Gustave to sleep.

She came over after the little concert and gave him a tearful kiss. "It's been years since I heard papa…" was all she could say. But Erik understood and smiled, feeling lighter than air at the kiss. He never initiated affections, as he felt too guilty still. But he always received it with open arms. Christine on the other hand did, in occasion, remind him he was indeed loved. Sometimes it was hard for her, as she was still working through emotions herself. But on days when it was a bit easier for her, when it felt like it used to, she gave more than just a few pecks on the cheek, much to Eriks joy.

However there was still one source of conflict. His ever present refusal to sleep.

Christine could only argue so much with him over this self torture. He had yet to sleep since their arrival, which was a little over two weeks ago at this point. It worried her greatly to see his bloodshot eyes and shaky hands that always waved away her concerns as he worried about other things that were 'far more important than a few wasted hours in bed'. But when she discovered him getting sick from exhaustion in the bathroom she about lost it.

"Erik. Bed. Now." She all but barked, leaning against the door he'd accidentally left open in his rush to the bathroom.

"I'm fine…" he muttered.

"No you aren't! Erik this is ridiculous! If Gustave or I pulled this stun-"

"You didn't abandon the love of your life or our son!" he exclaimed, forgetting the sleeping child down the hall.

"Erik what do I tell Gustave if you die from this-this idiocy!Oh I'm sorry Gustave, by the way that family friend is your bloody father laying in that casket!" She snapped back. Why was he so stubborn? Did he not care about them?

"yeah well maybe I'm better off dead!" Erik yelled louder still. Did she just not understand? He couldn't rest knowing what he did.

"You two! Shut it!" Nadir said hurrying between the two.

"Why! It's no secret I hate myself!" Erik roared back.

Nadir sighed and said in a strict voice "shut up Erik. Both of you go see Gustave. You woke him."

Both paled. How much had he heard?

Eriks exhausted mind was nevertheless defensive and terrified. How could he face Gustave if he had indeed heard…

But before he could wheel off and hide, Christine grabbed his handles and started pushing him towards the bedroom.

Once inside they saw Gustave, curled on his side and lightly crying. Instantly Christine came to his side and held him. Erik meanwhile sat, staring in pain as guilt nearly crushed him.

Eventually he choked out "I don't understand… w-who is-is He? Wh-why does he want…" Gustave couldn't even finish his sentence as he got choked up with the idea of a person he was beginning to become truly close with, dying.

Christine glanced at Erik with a cold anger for a second before focusing on stroking Gustave hair. "shh. It's okay. He doesn't want to… die. He's just very ill Gustave. Like you but with a different illness. It can make people… say things they don't mean. Make them not feel the best. That's all."

He sniffled and clung to his mother before calming a bit. Still it was with confused hurt eyes he looked st Erik, coughing slightly as he said "who are You?"

Erik was silent for a long while. But, in an almost trance like state he moved forward. It took a long time before he was finally able to think of what to say.

 _Don't lie._

"I…" he swallowed. He bowed his head as if at a confessional, looking at his hands, finally able to speak. "I've had… a very hard life Gustave. It's no excuse but… I want you to understand that as I explain… who I am… over a decade ago I did some rather… unpleasant things. Things I have regretted immensely ever since. All because I… fell in love. With your mother. I didn't know how to exactly handle things and I destroyed my life in many ways. But she-god you mother is a saint- looked past all of that and saw something I didn't. And still don't if I'm honest. See Gustave, before your mother I had never felt a loving hand in my life. I think that… was something she looked past as well. She understood, in a way, why I did these awful things. So she… forgave me. And we well… See I never thought I could have children, as I had gone through immense physical trauma as well as mental throughout my entire life. And I was so guilty for all the things I had done the year before that I left, before I found out about you. Had I known Gustave, do not doubt I would have stayed. But I honestly thought your mother would be happier without me. So I tried and failed to help. And I feel so terrible for… for what my choices did to you both."

He looked up and said slowly "But I… I'm trying. Trying to be here for you both like I should have been. And trying to tell you that… I'm your father, Gustave." He bit his lip. Here was to be the rejection. His heart was thumping as he waited for Gustaves response. A man waiting for the shrill sound of the guillotine blade to fall through the slats.

Gustave was quiet for a long time. But his response surprised them both. He coughed before saying slowly "I… I want to see your face. If… if what you say is true, I want to know my father's face. I want to not… not fear any part of him like I did fa-Raoul…"

Christine's eyes filled with unshed tears at her son's last statement. Erik had to swallow the practically tangible ball of guilt he felt at that. Unable to say no to his son in this moment where he felt that one wrong move could quickly end any hopes of a relationship with his son, he nodded. "Alright Gustave. Just… it is shocking to see…"

He closed his eyes and slowly found his rather numb fingers fiddling with the not of the veil. His breath caught as the soft fabric fell, leaving him exposed.

Unseen by Erik Gustave did in fact shudder. It was a ghastly mess. A skulls head with skin barely clinging on in most places, and in some, not at all. His sharp cheekbones were exposed and cracked. Skin hugging their edges like horns. His nose was completely gone and by what looked like injury, ripped wider into a horrible gash. His lips do tight they gripped his teeth, making it look like they were always exposed. Holes in his non existent cheeks framed them. And at the top of his head, part of his skull was missing on the right side, revealing raw muscle. His hair looked as if it struggled to grow at all. Lifeless tuffs of white clung in patches like cotton.

Truly he was horrific to look at.

But as Gustave thought about it, he responded with compassion as he asked "This is why you had a hard life. Isn't it."

Erik nodded, daring to look up at his son. His eyes do fearful that it turned the terrifying display of death into that of sadness. A bed for mercy, like a dog left out in the rain pawing at a warm window.

Gustave, wheezing heavily from his crying earlier, nodded slowly. Then he finally said in a soft voice "I don't fear you… I wish you would tell me more but… I think I can forgive you, based on… everything. But father please don't… don't hurt yourself any more. You need to get better just as I do. Please…"

Erik could not believe what he had just heard. His heart soared as he heard Gustave call him father. And in that moment he could have asked for the moon and Erik would have found a way.

Shakily he grabbed his son's hand and said with more sincerity than her ever had in his life, "I promise Gustave. I promise."

And much to his surprise and joy, Gustave leaned forward and pulled Erik into a hug. "Thank you dad…" he wheezed. Erik could not help the tears that rolled down his gaunt cheeks in that moment.

They would have stayed hugging longer but Gustave started to have another coughing fit again.

Erik pulled back and settled Gustave on his pillows. Christine said softly, whipping her eyes from the rather emotional moment "Here. I'll make us all some lunch while Erik gives you your medicine. Then we _all_ can have a rest."

Gustave, naturally freezing and wanting to cling to someone, nodded and moved closer. To Eriks arm. He looked up at his father and said "Sleep next to me? Please…"

Erik nodded and said gently "I will. Don't worry… here… try to relax as I set up your breathing treatment. It won't be as long as yesterday. I promise."

Gustave nodded and closed his eyes. He hated the feeling of the mask being lowered onto him a few minutes later. The air made his lungs burn as he wheezed. But he had to admit he was better than when they first started.

As the fumes were added, he held his father's hand. Holding it tight as he tried to stay relaxed while his lungs were assaulted. Half way through a cooler substance was added that was almost wet. This second half was easier as it only made him wheeze instead of cough. And after what seemed like an eternity it stopped. Erik then placed on his oxygen tube and he was finally able to breath.

Immediately he mouthed for water and Erik quickly gave him a glass, holding him up. When he settled him back down he asked Gustave, tentatively "Would you like me to put back on my mask Gustave? I won't be offended." He wanted to make sure Gustave was comfortable. Especially feeling as terrible as he did.

Gustave shook his head stubbornly and held out a hand to feel his cheek gently, causing Erik to draw in a breath of surprise. But he eventually leaned into the small touch. Feeling humbled by the silent message if anything.

Eventually Christine returned with some soup and light sandwiches. And for once, Erik took it without question. A silent message to them both that he would try and deal with his guilt issue another, safer way. Gustave smiled slightly, catching on.

About half way through the meal he started to doze. Both parents made sure to be rather quiet as they hurried to finish their meals and clean up.

Erik rolled to the other side of the bed and with one last glance at Gustave, he crawled into bed next to his son. Christine smiled in relief and started to adjust him so he could sleep. Gustave, half awake now, moved instantly to curl around Erik and lay on his shoulder. Clinging to him.

Erik had to swallow back many happy tears at that touch, a wave of paternal love crashing over him. And with the bed and his son next to him, he actually ended up falling to sleep quickly, exhausted from having not slept for sixteen days.

And for once, in a _very_ long time, his dreams were not interrupted by nightmares.

O.g.

Hope you all liked this like I'm your father moment. Please review and thanks for all the support so far! Next chapter look foward to some e/c moments.


End file.
